


Dancing In The Dark

by justalittlegreen



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Blowjobs, M/M, Smut, Smut and nothing but, Sweet, Teasing, joking, piercintyre - Freeform, soft, supply shed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:00:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21815563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justalittlegreen/pseuds/justalittlegreen
Summary: "How d'you want me?" Hawkeye's voice is heavy and low, without a hint of his earlier teasing."On your knees," John says. "Please," he adds, in a whisper. "I want you. So bad."
Relationships: "Trapper" John McIntyre/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce
Comments: 6
Kudos: 45





	Dancing In The Dark

They've spent the night at Rosie's, flirting, dancing, making the occasional show of a pass or a grab. By the time they stumble home, Trapper's leaning into Hawkeye a little more than he needs to, the hazy glow of a pleasant evening beginning to morph into something hungrier. He tugs Hawk towards Supply and Hawk follows, a chuckle in his throat. 

"Wanna dance?" John slurs as he puts the hanger on the door and holds it open for Hawkeye. Hawkeye reaches for him as he comes inside, puts one hand on his shoulder, holds the other out. Trapper slides both hands around Hawkeye's waist, pulls him close. Hawkeye gets the message and joins his hands loosely around the back of John's neck.

They sway for a moment, soft and blurry, until Hawkeye leans in to kiss the sensitive spot on John's neck, the one that melts him, undoes him, brings him halfway to his knees. John's just drunk enough that he lets out something that a less discerning person might call a whimper. Hawkeye replies by stifling a groan against his neck, tonguing the hint of stubble like he's savoring it.

Fuck, he's good.

Trapper clings, pulls him in closer, feels the beginnings of Hawk's erection against his fly. Shuffles him into a more hidden corner, breaks away to throw a mattress on the floor, folded bonelessly in half. 

"How d'you want me?" Hawkeye's voice is heavy and low, without a hint of his earlier teasing. 

"On your knees," John says. "Please," he adds, in a whisper. "I want you. So bad."

"Oh Gd, Trap," Hawkeye says, reaching between them to undo Trapper's belt and fly, still peppering his neck with kisses, "I've been wanting you since that second dance you had with Baker." He unbuttons John's fly and kicks the mattress into the right place, getting down on his knees.

Trapper leans against the most solid of the shelves and closes his eyes as Hawkeye nuzzles his cock through his shorts, taking a few long sniffs.

"Do you really have to smell everything you put in your mouth?" he asks, lazy with affection, sliding his hand into Hawkeye's hair.

"Uhhuh." He loves this part. Loves knowing how much Trap wants him, aches for him, needs him. It makes Hawkeye dizzy. He teases a moment, kissing John's cock with tiny pecks, opening his mouth and waiting for the inevitable. Trap doesn't make him wait long. 

"Tease," he accuses as he pulls Hawkeye's head forward. "Makin' me wait for it. Oh, fuck, Hawk _fuck._ "

Hawkeye holds himself still, relaxed, lets John do the work. He loves this, being taken, opened, at once savored and used. /Take me,/ he'd said the first time. John had never asked what he meant. The easy thrust of John's hips, the hint of coarse hair tickling his nose, the effort to keep his mouth slack and open - he trembles with need and arousal just taking it.

There are few moments more perfect than taking what John offers. Hawk isn't sure when he got so hard, but he's got a hand down his own pants, moaning around Trapper as he strokes himself in time with him. Hawkeye closes his eyes.

"That's it," Trapper mutters. "Better than anyone I've ever had, yanno that? Took me thirty years and twenty thousand miles to find paradise in a pile of shit, but damned if I'm not glad I did."

Hawkeye can only hum his agreement.

"Such a good mouth," John purrs. He knows Hawk gets off this, isn't sure how much of it is the words and how much is...the rest of it, but he doesn't like taking chances. "Gd, where'd you learn to do this?"

Hawkeye can't resist. He ducks his head to the side so he can answer. "Oh, here and there," he says cheekily. "More here than there, I have to say." 

John gives a little jerk on his hair to pull him back to task and Hawkeye gasps at the sensation, following immediately with an urgent, insistent moan. Trapper's not an idiot, so he twists his fingers and pulls, nearly coming apart as Hawkeye muffles a scream.

"Yeah? Ya like that?"

"UHHUH!!" Hawk abandons his patience routine and sucks hard, tongue seeking any and all spots that might offer the key to John's undoing. Trap can hear the frantic friction of Hawk's knuckles against the fabric of his pants and the thought of how close Hawk is - of Hawk coming apart with his mouth full of John - puts him on the edge.

"You _do_ like that, you - you filthy - " he can barely get the words out, but Hawkeye's whimpering around him and he knows - he knows he's on the right track. "You and that dirty mouth of yours," he continues. "I bet you'd do this for anyone who asked, wouldn't you?"

Hawk makes a noise that's the verbal equivalent of nodding, a shudder going through him at the thought.

"Even if I was there, watching? Maybe you'd like that - maybe you'd like taking care of a line of guys while I made sure you did good for them."

Hawkeye pulls away, gasping, ducking his head as he shakes with the effort of not yelling as he comes apart, falling forward and catching himself on one hand. Trap follows him at the sight, streaking HAwkeye's bent back. Fuck. _Fuck._

He has _got_ to see what he can do about this on their next trip to Tokyo.


End file.
